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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22553968">I've Sat on My Secrets for Years</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistynights/pseuds/mistynights'>mistynights</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Femslash February 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Agent Carter (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Slash, Sharing a Bed, Worried Angie Martinelli</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 17:00:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>893</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22553968</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistynights/pseuds/mistynights</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Angie worries about Peggy when she comes hurt to her room in the middle of the night.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peggy Carter/Angie Martinelli</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Femslash February 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620580</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I've Sat on My Secrets for Years</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Femslash February day three. Today's prompt was <b>Secret</b>. This got a bit longer than planned, but I'm quite happy with it. It's past midnight already, you know the deal. I'm hoping I'll get back on track with posting soon.</p><p>Title from Table for One by Passenger</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The knock comes just as Angie is getting ready for bed. It’s a soft, discreet kind of sound, and it would be completely unremarkable if it weren’t coming from her window instead of her door. Angie rolls her eyes and climbs out of bed. She can already imagine the poor idiot who’s gotten the wrong window when trying to sneak into his girlfriend’s room. It’s happened before; more than once, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she reaches the window, though, it’s not a man she sees. She has to bite her tongue to keep any noise from escaping her mouth at the sight of the person crouching on the windowsill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“English?” she whispers once she’s opened the window. Peggy puts a finger to her lips as she slips inside the room and turns to look outside, almost as if she’s expecting someone to jump at them from the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever Peggy sees—or doesn’t see—, it seems to be good enough for her because she slides the window close again and sags against it with a sigh. In the dim light coming from outside, Angie can just make out a trickle of blood dripping down her chin and the purplish shadow of a bruise forming around one of her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I left my room keys at work,” Peggy says before Angie can ask anything about her current state. “Do you think I could—?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She makes a vague gesture around the room. Angie can only guess she’s asking to spend the night here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Angie says, more out of shock than any real desire to share a bed with Peggy; not because the idea isn’t appealing, but because it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>appealing. It turns her heart into a fluttering mess, fills her insides with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>that’s been trying to claw its way out of Angie since the moment she laid eyes on Peggy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She helps Peggy into the bathroom to clean her wounds. There’s a pang in Angie’s chest when Peggy lifts up her shirt to reveal the pattern of dark bruises that color her ribs, her chest, her abdomen, and further down still, although Peggy refuses to take her pants off as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, English,” Angie mutters. In the light of the bathroom, she can also notice a dozen different scars scattered across Peggy’s skin; proof of old wounds from who knows how long ago. “What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peggy looks away from her. She’s been quiet—more than usual, anyways—ever since Angie started applying the medicine. There’s something in her eyes, though, in the way they move without quite stopping on anything in particular. And Angie, who’s lived with a family full of secrets, who has always had to keep many of her own, recognizes the gesture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was an accident,” Peggy says finally and her voice sounds so </span>
  <em>
    <span>tired</span>
  </em>
  <span>; not just from the bruises, or the late hour, but from something else, something older that Angie can’t even begin to guess at. “Really, it’s nothing to worry about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was it one of the jerks at the phone company?” Angie presses on, brow furrowing. And then, more as an afterthought, though not a reassuring one, “did you get yourself a man?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Angie,” Peggy replies and there’s confusion clear in her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One of my cousins used to go out with this guy who liked to get rough with her,” Angie explains. Peggy’s frown deepens but she shakes her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going out with anyone,” she says. “Listen, I appreciate the concern, but it really was an accident. I would tell you if it wasn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, right,” Angie says. She’s done patching Peggy up and is putting everything away, so she doesn’t get to see Peggy’s face when she replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Angie.” Peggy’s voice sounds tired, but it has that tone underneath that people use when they don’t want their warnings to sound too threatening. Angie bites the inside of her cheeks to keep herself from blowing up, from screaming in frustration, from reminding her that it was Peggy who came for her help, not the other way around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Instead, she closes the bathroom cabinet and walks to the door. “Come on, English. It’s late and I’ve got opening shift tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Angie’s bed isn’t too big, barely enough to fit the two of them comfortably. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peggy tries to argue in favor of sleeping on the floor, but there’s no way Angie’s letting her do that with the state she's in. They settle side by side, looking at the ceiling, listening to each other’s breathing for a long time before Peggy turns on her side, her back to Angie. It takes only a couple more seconds before her breathing evens and Angie is left alone in the darkness of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’ll be alone when she wakes up, she knows, and Peggy will act like tonight never happened, will change the topic if Angie even gets close to mentioning it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the dead of night, Angie closes her eyes and tries to sleep. She will feel hurt in the morning, will think about tonight over and over again—until the memories distort and change—, will try and find a way to help Peggy, even if Peggy will resist that help like she almost always does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right now, all she can do is try to ignore the sleeping figure next to her and rest before morning comes.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Find me on tumblr <a href="https://misty--nights.tumblr.com/">here</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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